


The Tail of Secrets

by teawater



Series: The Tail of Secrets [1]
Category: Onmyouji | The Yin-Yang Master (Movies)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light BDSM, Loss of Identity, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teawater/pseuds/teawater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seimei is forcefully turned into a fox, and Hiromasa's task is to look after him and eventually bring him back.<br/>Appeared before in Onmyoujium. I am posting it here because the second part is on its way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tail of Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, General_Zargon

“Lady Keiko invited me to view the cherry blossom,” said Hiromasa somewhat proudly as he poured himself and Seimei another round of wine.

“Ah,” Seimei raised an eyebrow. “So that is the name of your current passion, hmm?”

Hiromasa blushed slightly, correcting Seimei’s interpretation.

“She isn’t really a passion, it’s just a social visit.”

“Really, Hiromasa, you are telling me that you can receive _the_ attentions of such a gorgeous lady as Keiko-dono and not fall in love?” mocked Seimei.

Hiromasa frowned. He was used to his friend’s taunting, but this time it bothered him for a new reason.

“I am worried,” he said glumly, tracing a finger around the rim of his untouched wine cup. He was facing the garden and didn’t turn to look at Seimei or he would’ve noticed that his friend was no longer smiling.

“Worried?” prompted Seimei as Hiromasa obviously sank deep into his own thoughts and forgot that he was engaged in a conversation.

“Well, yes,” Hiromasa shifted uncomfortably. “I think I might have bad luck with women.”

Seimei snorted.

“If that is the greatest worry you have in this world, you are a happy man. Honestly, Hiromasa, play more flute and write less poetry, and you will have no more trouble with women whatsoever.”

“My poetry isn’t _that_ bad,” Hiromasa glanced sideways at his friend. “But I actually meant something else. I am worried that I bring bad luck to women.”

“Oh?” Seimei looked politely interested.

“Yes,” Hiromasa nodded vigorously. Now that he had blurted out his concern, it became much easier to find words to talk about it. “You see, for the past couple years almost every lady I liked either turned into a demon or died or something worse. There were only a couple who simply preferred other men, but who knows, something might happen to them still,” he shivered. “I mean, what if there is some kind of curse on me?”

Again, he wasn’t looking at Seimei as he spoke, naturally because he wasn’t feeling very comfortable speaking about his concern even to his closest friend; being associated with evil and unnatural things wasn’t something a nobleman could easily confess to. Nevertheless, Seimei opened his fan and hid most of his face behind it.

“I can assure you, Hiromasa,” he said earnestly, “that there is no curse on you.”

Hiromasa sighed.

“That is good news coming from you. Although I still wonder why it happens anyway.”

This time he actually turned and caught a glimpse of Seimei’s grave stare just before the onmyouji looked down. Hiromasa tensed and racked his head for a way to end the discussion.

“Anyway,” he said to fill the pause, “it might be just that nowadays most women approach me simply because they are afraid to approach you directly and I’m a convenient messenger,” he laughed half-heartedly.

It didn’t lighten the mood at all. If anything, it made it worse.

“I am sorry to cause you so much trouble,” Seimei muttered, and Hiromasa was at a loss whether his friend really was taking the blame or just being ironic.

“Oh, come on!” he said carefully. It could work as an answer in both cases. Seimei didn’t respond, so Hiromasa once more grabbed for a change of subject. “Perhaps, you would like to join us in viewing the cherry blossom?”

“Really, Hiromasa, it would be strange to bring me to a date with a lady.”

“Oh, but she won’t be alone!” Hiromasa exclaimed. “This is no date, I tell you, just a social visit!”

“You know I do not enjoy social visits,” reminded Seimei. “Do you need me there to ensure that she is not a demon or just in case I am actually the reason she is flirting with you?”

“That’s harsh,” Hiromasa frowned. “I simply thought you would enjoy the beautiful sight. There aren’t any cherry trees in your garden,” he waved a hand around indicating the tangled mess that Seimei, no doubt by mistake, called a garden.

“It hasn’t occurred to you that there might be a reason for it,” Seimei observed in his best subtly derogatory tone.

Hiromasa pursed his lips trying to make up a witty reply, but then thought twice about it. His friend was obviously upset, and that didn’t happen very often.

“Seimei,” he said tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

Instead of an answer, Seimei stood up and walked to the far corner of the veranda where a lively bush stuck its shoots through the banister. Seimei fingered a leaf and then sniffed at his fingertips.

“I am afraid, Hiromasa, I cannot entertain you much longer today,” he said. “As well as during the coming week. I have some business to take care of.”

Hiromasa frowned even further at such a direct dismissal, but then, hasn’t he always enjoyed the directness and naturalness in his friend? He only wished he knew what had upset Seimei so greatly. Perhaps, it had been the business on his mind. Or perhaps not.

“That’s all right, Seimei,” he said, getting up. “I understand... I just...” he took a breath. “I know I’m often clumsy with words, but surely you realise that I never intend to insult you.”

Seimei turned to him and smiled eliciting a quiet sigh of relief from Hiromasa.

“Of course,” the onmyouji purred. “I am sorry to have made you think it was your fault. I would gladly enjoy the rest of the evening in your company, but sadly, arrangements are waiting to be made.”

“Oh, well, if you’re fine, I’m fine,” Hiromasa beamed. “Send me a note once you’re done though.”

“Naturally,” Seimei inclined his head in a graceful nod, still smiling. He was standing a few paces away, so Hiromasa didn’t notice that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. With a light heart Hiromasa bid him goodbye and headed for the gate, already musing on the perfumes and colour combinations appropriate for the Ohanami festival.

* * *

Lady Keiko was indeednot alone. When Hiromasa’s servants brought him to the appointed place, he was greeted by a happy chorus of giggles from several brightly coloured palanquins all around. Obviously, the lady had summoned all of her friends to support her through the ordeal of entertaining Minamoto no Hiromasa. He sighed secretly and waved the servants to follow the ladies into the orchard.

The cherry orchard in which they were going to celebrate lay at the edge of the city. It was vast and beautiful, at the far end merging with the woods. The day was sunny and warm, a slight breeze causing pink snowfalls of petals all around Hiromasa. He exchanged a few polite remarks with lady Keiko (or at least he assumed that it was her in the nearest palanquin, for he couldn’t see her and wasn’t sure he could tell her voice from the others’) and then set out to enjoy the sights because it was pretty obvious that nothing romantic was going to happen that day.

The day was long and rather boring. For all her beauty, lady Keiko turned out to be a rather ordinary girl, which was especially apparent when Hiromasa couldn’t see her and thus was not distracted by her looks. He produced a number of decentish poems and played his flute for about an hour, but found that his giggling companions had little respect for his talents in either. So, as soon as an opportunity presented itself, he secretly left his palanquin and went for a stroll among the trees, admiring their splendour and musing on his lack of interest in lady Keiko.

“Perhaps, this is what maturity feels like,” he thought aloud. Like many men in their early twenties he was often bothered by the idea that his best years were coming to an end, and old age was not far off, and anyone older than thirty was bordering on ancient. Well, except for Seimei, of course, but he didn’t age, so he didn’t count.

Hiromasa strode through the dunes of petals, his feet raising light snowdrifts of pink among the trees. He came to a long pond formed by a stream running through the garden, and sat down on the bank, trying to come up with a poem that would unite the idea of maturing young men and the transient nature of cherry blossom. Not that such poems hadn’t been composed by every second courtier at least once a year, but Hiromasa refused to be bothered by such trifles.

The reflection in the glassy water was so clear, he could hardly tell where the opposite bank ended and the surface of the pond began, and he started looking for ways to include this in his poem as well. That was the usual problem with Hiromasa’s poetry: he was so fascinated with the world around that he couldn’t just pick out one little bit that would sit comfortably in the short verse. Playing the flute was easier for him because a melody existed in time, not in space, and could encompass many more ideas and emotions.

As he was contemplating the reflection, it suddenly came to life. Two foxes emerged from the undergrowth on the other side of the pond where the orchard gradually blended with the woods. One of the foxes was greyish-red and somewhat shabby looking. The other, however, sported a sparkling white coat which was impeccably kempt. Hiromasa was so drawn to their upturned images in the reflection that he forgot to have a look at the real things above. Which was just as well, because foxes can always feel anyone’s stare on them even from a great distance, yet their reflections have no such power. Dressed in light pink, white and earthy brown, Hiromasa blended so well with the orchard that the foxes didn’t notice him. In fact, their eyes were locked on each other as they came closer. The white fox had an air of superiority about it, standing tall on its toes, teeth barely showing. The red one, perhaps a youngster, was cowering and keeping its’ back end well-covered by a thin tail. It was also growling so that not only teeth, but even its pink gums could be seen. The foxes danced around each other with the white one pushing on and the red one backing off until it splashed into the pond with its back paws. It yelped, jumped and was gone at once.

Hiromasa chuckled.

The white fox immediately looked up with an alert expression on its elegant snout.

Hiromasa blinked and lifted his gaze above the edge of the water to see the source of the reflection. It was not a fox, though, but a man clad in a white hunting costume. Seimei.

Before Hiromasa found his voice to call after his friend, the onmyouji had disappeared among the trees.

* * *

In the next few days Hiromasa was too busy with his court duties to visit his friend, but the boring events at the palace provided a lot of opportunities to think over what he had witnessed. For example, during a particularly tedious report on agriculture by the Left Minister, Hiromasa silently recited all the tales about foxes he had ever heard and recalled that whatever form a fox takes, its reflection always stays a fox. Later that day, in the course of some meaningless contest he kept trying to remember an instance when he could’ve seen Seimei’s reflection in anything at all — and failed.

Well, it had to happen one day or another, he thought. Seimei might mock him for listening to rumours, but in fact he was probably making fun of Hiromasa for not realizing they were true. Anyway, it was not like it changed anything. Seimei was the most unbelievable being Hiromasa had ever encountered, including demons and gods, and the fact that he was half-fox certainly explained some of his mysteriousness, but didn’t take away his charm or make him any less pleasurable as a drinking companion.

So, as his court duties were over for the month, Hiromasa turned his ox-cart towards the Modori bridge.

The garden gate was ajar, as usual, and Hiromasa let himself in, a slight smile on his face and a bottle of good wine in his hand. Seimei seemed to have an infinite storage of wine somewhere in the house, but Hiromasa liked to bring his own sometimes for a change, especially if he happened to acquire a particularly good batch.

Seimei was standing on the veranda, looking as if he had just come out onto it from the house specifically to greet his guest. That was rare. Usually the onmyouji was sitting rooted by his favourite pillar as if he grew there like an exquisite flower. On the occasions when Seimei was busy studying some scroll or another, Hiromasa was used to finding his way about the house without distracting his host. This time, though, Seimei was standing on the edge of the wooden platform, and Hiromasa noticed how tense he was, as if with apprehension.

“Nice evening,” Hiromasa began uncomfortably. “Are you expecting another guest?”

“No,” Seimei said plainly, his look boring into Hiromasa as if trying to decipher him. “How did your cherry blossom viewing go?”

“The blossom was splendid,” Hiromasa shrugged. He was still standing in the grass, not daring to step past Seimei’s rigid form. “The company however... you were right not to join me.”

Seimei nodded, still keeping Hiromasa in place with his scrutinizing stare. The young man fidgeted with the bottle in his hand.

“Got this from my uncle who visited earlier this week... he always brings excellent wine. Thought you’d like to share it with me, but... you look like you’re busy, no?”

For all his manners, Hiromasa often found himself tongue-tied in the presence of his friend. Especially when he happened to be on the receiving end of his attentive look.

“Not at all,” Seimei said slowly, stepping back to let Hiromasa onto the veranda. As Hiromasa shook off his boots, Seimei settled himself at his usual pillar, clearly acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened between them.

Well, if Seimei was willing to keep up his pretence, Hiromasa wasn’t going to hinder him. He chatted merrily about the events at the palace and at his uncle’s estate, helping himself to one cup of wine after another. Seimei seemed relaxed and amused all the way until the bottle was nearly empty. He chuckled over a piece of gossip Hiromasa was telling him, sending ripples on the surface of the wine in his cup. Hiromasa’s rather tipsy mind quickly made some unwelcome connections.

“Do you reflect as a fox in the wine too?” he blurted, craning his neck to look into the cup.

Seimei started so hard he splashed some wine onto his pristine white hunting costume, reminding Hiromasa unpleasantly of blood.

“Ooh... sorry,” Hiromasa mumbled, immediately ashamed of his indiscretion.

“No need for apology,” Seimei said quietly, settling down his cup and clearing the bright spot on his chest with a muttered word and a gesture. His eyes stayed trained on the hem of his robes.

Hiromasa waited for a second, but when nothing followed, he gathered all of his drunken courage to speak his mind.

“Listen, Seimei, if you are uncomfortable talking about it, just say so, and I won’t.”

Seimei shrugged lightly.

“I see no reason to hush it down since you already know... Although I must congratulate you for successfully tricking me into believing that you didn’t recognize me that day.”

“I didn’t mean to trick you,” Hiromasa frowned.

“As for your question,” Seimei ignored his remark and went on, “the answer would be no. Normally I cast a spell on every reflective surface around so that it would show my human form. That day I was distracted, and also convinced there was no one around. But again, you managed to spy me out.”

“I didn’t mean to spy!” said Hiromasa louder this time, exasperated. “I had no idea you’d be there!”

“In that case it must have been fate,” Seimei gave a small sad smile, barely a ghost of his usual amused smirk. His eyes were still downcast.

Hiromasa shifted uncomfortably. It looked like lately he had been having the same bad effect on Seimei as he usually had on women: he made him unhappy on two evenings out of two.

“You aren’t going to disappear into the woods like foxes do in fairy-tales upon being discovered, are you?” Hiromasa asked, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Seimei gave a quiet noise and chanced a look at Hiromasa through his lowered eyelashes.

“Would it upset you too much if I did?”

Hiromasa, who busied himself with finishing his wine, choked. It took him a couple of minutes to learn to breath anew, even though Seimei whispered something to clear his throat.

“Seimei, that’s plain stupid!” he gasped as soon as he could speak again. “Here I am, as usual, not spooked by anything! I’d half-believed the rumours anyway... Really, like it matters to me what you look like in the mirror.”

Seimei chuckled behind his sleeve. It seemed like good humour was finally returning to him, and Hiromasa grinned his way. There was a fluttering warm feeling unfurling in his chest, a kind of tenderness one feels when they make someone else happier. Hiromasa adored this sensation and was often eager to sacrifice important things just to get it, but this time no sacrifice was needed, it turned out simply being himself was enough.

Feeling much braver now, he slid closer to his friend and leaned forward, eyes gleaming with childish curiosity.

“Na, Seimei, could I please have another look at you as a fox? I’ve never seen a fox so close, certainly not a white one, and...”

He was cut short by Seimei’s hearty laugh.

“Hiromasa-a...” he chortled, “I believe I said a couple of times in the past that you were predictable. Well, I take that back!”

“You don’t mind, do you?” persisted Hiromasa sensing that his wish was on the verge of being granted.

“Fine,” Seimei surrendered. “But I warn you that I won’t be able to speak human language.”

“It’s just for a few minutes,” Hiromasa fidgeted with anticipation.

Seimei nodded and pushed his wine cup away as if to make room on the floor. Then — Hiromasa almost missed the moment — the whole of Seimei’s form together with his lacquered cap, his sleeves and a fan melted and liquefied, and in a moment a white fox was sitting in his place.

It was much smaller than Seimei’s human form and almost entirely white except for the two somewhat darker, silvery areas of fur around its eyes granting expressiveness to its face, and the ink-black contours of its ears, as if outlined with a thin brush. Its nose was black too as well as the thin edges of the eyelids not covered with fur, but on the inside of the nimble ears the skin was a tender pink.

Hiromasa couldn’t suppress a gasp, and his face split into one of the least appealing of his grins, but he wasn’t paying any attention.

“You are so cu-u-ute!” he breathed, nearly copying the intonation of one of lady Keiko’s giggling friends. As the fox gave him a disapproving glare, though, he suddenly remembered that it was still Seimei sitting in front of him, so he coughed and corrected himself, “I mean, beautiful! Yes, beautiful.”

The fox snorted so much like Seimei would have, that Hiromasa found himself making another girly squeeing noise, the kind he would rather die than utter in the human Seimei’s presence. But this fox-Seimei couldn’t understand human language, right? Or maybe he just couldn’t say words?

Hiromasa pulled himself upright trying his best to remember this _was_ Seimei. Still, even if the fox could understand everything, it seemed so much more forgiving than the _real_ Seimei... Hiromasa leaned forward again.

“Na, Seimei,” he said carefully, eliciting a questioning look from the fox. “May I touch you?”

The fox bared its teeth and cackled, or maybe coughed, and Hiromasa drew back slightly at the sight, but then the beast nodded and lay down on its side, exposing a fluffy belly, and extended its front paws towards Hiromasa. He attempted stroking one with great care, feeling the rigid knuckles under the fur. The fox watched him for a couple minutes, then yawned and stretched, demonstrating _e_ th full set _of_ its fangs and claws in full glory. Hiromasa admired the natural weapons like he would a masterfully forged arrow.

“That’s gorgeous,” he murmured, daring to run his hand along the fox’s neck.

The fox suddenly shied away and sat up, in a moment turning back into a smirking Seimei. Hiromasa never even had time to withdraw his had, and now he flushed bright red to Seimei’s further amusement.

“Why did you change all of a sudden?” Hiromasa exclaimed, sitting back.

“That was ticklish,” Seimei laughed causing Hiromasa to blush even deeper if possible.

“Sorry,” he squeezed out. “It was inappropriate too. I shouldn’t have...”

Seimei waved him off.

“Don’t worry about that. I perceive things differently in that form too. Anyway, I think it was the first time someone was so delighted with my fox form.”

Hiromasa grinned despite himself.

“That just means you’ve been mingling with the wrong sort of people before,” he said, puffed on his own broad-mindedness.

“It just means you are a very good man, but that is nothing new,” Seimei replied quickly as he picked up his unfinished wine cup and hid behind it.

Hiromasa felt a sudden flow of tenderness towards his friend. To think that Seimei had to hide his wonderful other side for fear of being pushed away... This sudden manifestation of weakness somehow made Seimei all the more dear to Hiromasa. It was a brief glimpse of humanity, so carefully hidden behind a smirking mask. It was funny, Hiromasa thought, that it took discovering Seimei’s fox side to discover his human nature.

Struck by this thought, he fumbled in his robes for a sheet of paper, then got up and ran to Seimei’s writing desk, all the effect of the wine gone. He ground the ink stone quickly, concentrating hard to remember the lines that came to him. Finally he got all he needed.

_Only by knowing where the ground is_

_Can you deduce the direction of Heavens_

— that was what he wrote clumsily with rather diluted ink, and showed to Seimei right away. It sent Seimei into a long fit of loud laughter, so infectious that Hiromasa couldn’t help but join him even though he wasn’t sure what was so funny. Still, he felt quietly proud of his little poetic observation.

* * *

The summer was energetic even despite the heat and rains. There was a number of demons to exorcise both in the city and around it, and Hiromasa travelled together with Seimei whenever the onmyouji called. Seimei now seemed much more at ease with Hiromasa and began sharing some more of his knowledge of the world, even though Hiromasa wasn’t getting much better at understanding it. After the initial time, Seimei turned into his fox form twice more to amuse Hiromasa. For Hiromasa, it was an ordeal every time because it was infernally difficult to stay within the bounds of decency while interacting with the furry beast. Yet his natural curiosity and fascination with his friend’s ability got the best of him. Seimei, for his part, was definitely amused with Hiromasa’s reaction, but the young man didn’t want to press his luck. He didn’t want Seimei to think that this new magical attraction was more important to him than a casual talk with his friend. So when summer heat struck and Seimei refused to change for fear of overheating in all that fur, Hiromasa felt a bit relieved.

One day they were returning from a nearby village where Seimei had successfully exorcised a bloodthirsty mononoke called into existence by an ugly rivalry between two sons of a wealthy man. In the afternoon the rain stopped and the sky cleared, and Seimei predicted that it would last at least until nightfall, so they decided to take a walk back to the capital since it was only a short way. The Onmyouji had been in a very good mood and especially talkative, so after a while, Hiromasa dared to ask one question that had been bothering him ever since the Ohanami festival.

“I’ve been wondering, Seimei,” he said slowly, as if not paying attention to his own words, “who was that other fox that day?”

Hiromasa was never eloquent, especially when it came to important matters, but Seimei seemed to have a way of understanding him nevertheless. To Hiromasa’s relief, his friend didn’t tense or lose his smile, he just gave a little sigh.

“A relation. He was looking for a hunting ground, like all ambitious youngsters. He is a pure-blood fox, you see. He was trying to settle in my wood, and I had to drive him away.”

“Your wood?” Hiromasa gaped.

“Naturally, I have no need for a hunting ground,” Seimei chuckled. “But still, all the woods adjacent to Heian-kyo are officially mine. By the fox law, of course.”

“Oh,” Hiromasa nodded his understanding. “But why don’t you let that relative of yours stay here? I mean, if you have no need for the woods?”

“Because as a fox, and especially a young one, he wouldn’t be content with a quiet life in the wood. He would start playing pranks on the citizens and scaring the guards, stealing food from people’s homes... Eventually I would have to drive him away or worse. So I prefer not to let him stay in the first place.”

Hiromasa smiled with light sadness.

“I see. Well, I hope he’ll find a suitable wood somewhere away from your hunting grounds.”

“So do I,” Seimei drawled quietly. Hiromasa suspected uncertainty in his voice, but the onmyouji talked about it no more.

* * *

It was only in autumn that Hiromasa remembered Seimei’s unfortunate relative. As usual after a week of court duties, Hiromasa’s soul longed for the company of his friend, so early in the next day he set out on the all too familiar road to Seimei’s house.

At the gate he was greeted by a faceful of fluttering Mitsumushi. The butterfly was clearly agitated. She circled Hiromasa’s head all the way to the porch, and he was beginning to get sick. At the first glance, there was no one on the veranda, but then Hiromasa noticed a white fox lying by Seimei’s favourite pillar.

“Seimei!” he beamed, shaking off his boots. “It is finally cool enough to turn?”

The fox fixed him with a glare. Hiromasa frowned. He was sure this was Seimei, he had taken care to memorise the characteristic markings on his fox face.

“Is something wrong?” Hiromasa asked, settling down by the fox and arranging his robes without even paying attention to what he was doing.

The fox snorted and grumbled quietly, then lay its head onto its’ front paws and sighed.

“Are you ill?” asked Hiromasa, worried.

The fox lifted its’ head again and shook it quickly from side to side, eager to convince Hiromasa of its’ well-being.

“Then what’s happened?” wondered Hiromasa, puzzled as to why Seimei wouldn’t turn and explain.

The fox looked him in the eyes for a long moment, then sighed.

“You can’t turn back?” Hiromasa hazarded a guess.

The fox nodded and flapped its huge tail a couple of times, clearly glad that Hiromasa had figured it out. Mitsumushi, who was perched on top of Hiromasa’s lacquered cap, flexed her wings in agitation.

“Oh,” Hiromasa sat back, worried anew. “Has someone done something to you?”

Seimei nodded.

“Who?” Hiromasa asked at once.

Seimei gave him a disapproving look. Hiromasa almost heard him say something like, “Really, how do you expect me to tell you that?”

Hiromasa suppressed a chuckle, but then a new horrible thought tore through his mind.

“Are you going to stay this way forever!?” he gasped.

Seimei shook his head. Then, apparently realizing that he wouldn’t be left in peace, he stood up on his long slender legs and trudged to his low writing desk, Hiromasa following. There Seimei found a piece of used paper — a letter of sorts, perhaps. He delicately pulled the letter onto the floor with the tips of his fangs and turned it blank side up. Then he stepped onto it with his left paw and flexed his right one a bit, after which he made three long grooves in the paper with his claws.

Hiromasa stared at his friend’s effort at communication.

“Three days?” he asked at last.

Seimei shook his head.

“Weeks?”

Another no.

“Months?” Hiromasa pleaded. He really didn’t want to think of years.

Fortunately, this time the fox nodded. Hiromasa felt so relieved, he sank to the floor.

“Well, I guess three months is bearable,” he said after a moment. “Do you drink wine in this form?”

The fox grinned and cackled, then wrinkled its’ nose.

“I see,” Hiromasa laughed. “Well, how about milk then?”

The fox thought about it for a moment, then licked its’ muzzle with a delicate pink tongue.

“Very well then, I’ll send for some,” said Hiromasa getting up to go to the gate. His servants always preferred to wait for him outside. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” he muttered to himself as he strode along the path.

* * *

In the course of the next two weeks Hiromasa had all the opportunity to learn his friend’s beastly side better. He found that the fox Seimei preferred raw foods with a rare exception for a grilled koi, could sleep absolutely anywhere any time of day and night (a couple of times Hiromasa almost stumbled over him on the weedy path from the gate to the porch), and made a great number of funny noises, reminding Hiromasa most of all of the creaking of a very old ox-cart. He had always assumed that a fox’s cry must be something like a dog’s bark, but he found that, at least for this fox, it was more like a mixture of a scream and a growl. One evening Seimei greeted him with a shriek that made Hiromasa think of a woman giving birth to a demon, or of a poor soul being tortured by vengeful spirits.

“Could you please keep down your yells!?” he said harshly instead of a greeting.

Seimei looked hurt for a moment, and then guilty as he backed off into the shade of the veranda.

“Sorry,” Hiromasa corrected himself. “I didn’t mean to be rude. You scared me a bit... and I can’t begin to imagine what my servants outside the gate must’ve thought. Please, please, Seimei, I understand that it is unnatural, but please, could you be a little quieter?”

The fox Seimei nodded and flapped his enormous tail a few times, indicating that he was not upset with Hiromasa. The young man sighed with relief as he unpacked the foods he’d brought. Being turned into a fox, Seimei couldn’t produce any shikigami, he couldn’t even transform Mitsumushi into a girl, so Hiromasa took to bringing provisions from his home. Fortunately, his cook was a rather absent-minded kind woman who never asked questions or even remembered that the young master began ordering twice as much food, half of it uncooked, as well as a huge jar of milk, which he’d never liked before.

Seimei ate in a very well-mannered fashion and always cleared his plate. Hiromasa remembered that the human Seimei also never left anything uneaten. He wondered if it was a fox habit or a testament to the kind of life Seimei had lived when he was younger. After dinner Seimei would stretch on the floor and lick his muzzle thoroughly. He never licked any other part of his body in Hiromasa’s presence, even though sometimes he looked like he wanted to, and that, of course, made sense in terms of decency. From time to time Hiromasa noticed that the fox moved as if to roll onto its’ back, but checked itself with a frown on its’ beautiful face.

Today, however, the fox was restless after the meal, pacing about the veranda and swishing its’ tail nervously from side to side.

“What’s the matter?” asked Hiromasa, pouring some milk into Seimei’s drinking bowl.

The fox sat down and dropped its’ tail to one side, then gave it a pointed look. Hiromasa moved closer to examine whatever was bothering his friend. Apparently, the long fur on the tail had become matted and required some care. Hiromasa remembered that it was the beginning of autumn, and animals were supposed to shed the summer fur and grow the thicker winter one. That must have been the reason for the fox’s discomfort.

“I guess I could comb it out for you if you’d let me,” he said to the fox.

Seimei’s face looked sour for a moment, but then he sighed and nodded. The discomfort was great enough, Hiromasa realised, for his friend to let him into his private space.

After following Seimei into the house and rummaging in a chest with fragrances he found a comb suitable for the task. He then lit several braziers. It was already twilight, and the air was getting cooler.

At first Hiromasa fumbled with the comb rather clumsily — after all, he’d never combed an animal’s fur in his life! Seimei grunted every time a hair was pulled here or there, and showed his teeth. Hiromasa suddenly realised that his friend’s human nature might be hidden too deep under the fox skin to prevent him from biting. Not that Hiromasa was afraid of being bitten, but he could just imagine the talks at the court if he emerged from Seimei’s house with a fox’s toothmarks on his hand. It was bad enough that he had to tell everyone every day that his friend was unwell and didn’t receive guests except for Hiromasa himself, and no, he couldn’t exorcise that demon in Izumi, nor could he make a protective charm for you, lady, and no-no-no, please don’t send a doctor!

After a few minutes, though, Hiromasa seemed to get a hang of it, and Seimei also seemed to relax. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying himself, eyes half closed and a satisfied grin on his slender snout. In a while, he began to purr. As twilight gave way to darkness, Hiromasa found himself extremely unwilling to go back home. But the gate would close soon, and he didn’t want to make his poor servants spend the night outside Seimei’s gate. Having finished with the tail, he stroked the fox’s head affectionately, without giving it much thought. The fox seemed asleep, but as Hiromasa was withdrawing his hand, he felt a wet tongue lick his fingers.

“You are welcome,” he whispered and walked away quietly.

“How is master Seimei today, My Lord?” asked the ox driver. Hiromasa suspected the man prayed for Seimei’s health in hopes that his master would stop visiting the spooky place so often.

“A bit better, I think,” he said smiling.

The messenger boy woke with a start and then gave a relieved gasp as the cart was pulled towards home.

* * *

The next day Seimei didn’t come out to greet him. He didn’t respond to the calls, either. Worried, Hiromasa searched all through the house and around it, and finally spotted a glimpse of white in the shade of a particularly thorny bush. He crouched down as close to the beast as he could get without damaging his clothes.

“Seimei! What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Why won’t you come out?”

The fox bared its’ teeth and growled.

Hiromasa stared. He raked his mind for whatever could be the reason for Seimei’s displeasure with him. Sour milk? Less than fresh koi?

Then the end of yesterday’s evening came to his mind. Seimei licked his hand then. Was he ashamed of it now? And the combing...

“Listen, Seimei,” he spoke urgently. “Didn’t you tell me that you perceive things differently this way? Surely, there is nothing wrong with a little... gesture... of, er, friendly affection? Then again, if you had any servants, they would’ve cared for your fur, but since you don’t... and I can’t let mine see you like this... it was just a little help, nothing inappropriate! Please, come out. I’ve brought some fresh rabbit, your favourite...”

Hiromasa reached a hand through the tangle of spikes, but the fox snapped at him and growled louder. Hiromasa jumped back, nursing his thorn-scratched hand. He was beyond upset. What could’ve made his friend so unwelcoming? Perhaps he was hurt, after all, just unwilling to admit it.

Hiromasa asked, time and again. Hiromasa persuaded. Hiromasa ordered. Hiromasa pleaded. Eventually, Hiromasa fell silent. He sat by the bush, staring into space, despair written all over his face. The situation was way beyond his weak skills for comprehension.

The fox made a point of looking anywhere but at Hiromasa. Yet, it couldn’t help snatching a glimpse of his hunched figure from time to time. After an hour or so, it gave up. With a sigh of defeat, the fox emerged from the bush, placed its front paws onto Hiromasa’s knee and licked him on the cheek.

Hiromasa’s face split into a surprised and happy grin.

“Seimei, you aren’t angry with me anymore?”

The fox sighed again and shook its’ head, then nudged Hiromasa with its’ nose and trotted in the direction of the veranda where Hiromasa had left the treats. Relieved, Hiromasa hurried to follow.

* * *

The day after that Hiromasa arrived in the morning to find a heap of meadow bunting feathers just in front of the veranda. Seimei was lying at his usual place under the pillar, looking completely innocent except the fact that he licked his nose from time to time.

“Seimei!” Hiromasa gasped, dismayed. “Did you kill a bird!?”

The fox tilted its head and flapped an ear, as if saying, “So what?”

“It’s a bad thing to do!” Hiromasa whined. “You knew I was to bring you some food early today, I told you so yesterday!”

Seimei didn’t appear to be listening, instead he was watching a late moth fluttering by. With a snap of jaws the moth was gone.

“ _Seimei!_ ” Hiromasa chided. “You can’t be _that_ hungry. Here, breakfast is laid.”

But the fox, apparently, wasn’t hungry at all. Instead of eating, it rolled onto its’ back and pawed at the ends of the lace on Hiromasa’s sleeve.

“Oh, right, now you are getting playful,” Hiromasa sighed, but he couldn’t suppress a smile. The sight was extremely cute.

After a few minutes, though, Seimei stood up, gave himself a shake and turned his attention to the fresh fish.

And so it began.

Day after day Hiromasa came to Seimei’s garden and found fresh feathers. The fox jumped around him like a happy puppy and played with the hem of his sleeves. It no longer nodded in agreement, but rather flapped its tail or even licked Hiromasa. Instead of shaking its’ head, though, it grunted and snapped.

At first, Hiromasa was exasperated and annoyed with his friend’s behaviour, but gradually he got used to it, especially since it was fun to play with the fox, and its’ antics amused him.

Now Hiromasa would often stroke his friend’s head and back, as well as comb his fur. Seimei would roll onto his back, exposing his fluffy belly and let Hiromasa scratch it for hours.

About a month and a half after Seimei’s transformation, a distant relative of Hiromasa’s had a child. Hiromasa sent a servant with detailed instructions on what presents to buy for the baby, but when he got hold of the toys, he kept a rattle to himself. It was conveniently round and would roll on the floor, much to the fox’s joy. Seimei’s garden was now filled with a rattling noise night and day, and Hiromasa sat on the porch, laughing heartily at the playing fox.

One day, a couple hours after lunch, the fox saw something in the grass and crawled soundlessly closer. Hiromasa assumed it was another poor moth — he wasn’t happy about Seimei eating them, but there was nothing he could do about it. He convinced himself that for a fox, it was not a sin.

But then he heard a squeak and realized it had been a mouse.

“Seimei, no!” he jumped up. “Not a mouse! Please! That’s disgusting!”

The fox flapped its’ tail in a dismissing manner and prepared to jump. But Hiromasa got there first and pushed the fox sideways, making sure to startle the mouse with the noise. The fox gave a sharp cry and plunged its teeth into Hiromasa’s forearm. Hiromasa yelped and stared at the beast. The fox stared back with a pointed glare. Then it slowly released his arm and backed off without turning until there was a safe distance between them.

Hiromasa ground his teeth. The bite hurt and bled. He didn’t know where Seimei kept his first-aid medications and whether he had them at all, seeing that he could treat injuries with magic. Hiromasa had to return home. But he had sent his ox-cart back, not expecting to go home until evening. He swore under his breath and walked out of the gate, not even looking back at his offender.

* * *

But the next day he came here again, dutifully bringing breakfast to his charge. The fox was happy to see him, it jumped around him and licked him in the face a few times. Hiromasa’s heart wasn’t very difficult to melt.

“You really need some proper hunting,” he mused aloud, scratching behind a white ear. “Or fishing. Na, Seimei, what do you think of fishing?”

The fox yipped and sped up lapping at the milk.

“Careful, don’t choke,” Hiromasa laughed.

After the fox had finished its’ meal, Hiromasa headed for the back of the garden where there was a path leading to an effluent of the Horikawa river that the Modori bridge was built over. He walked out of the back gate and turned around to encourage his friend to follow, but the fox wouldn’t step past the line of the fence.

“What’s up?” Hiromasa called. “We’re going fishing, remember?”

The fox sniffed at the air and wailed, then lifted one paw and prodded the open space before its’ nose, yet it didn’t step forward. Hiromasa turned back.

“Are you afraid to leave the garden?” he asked, concerned, crouching down.

Instead of an answer, the fox climbed into his lap.

“Is it all right if I carry you?” Hiromasa asked dubiously. He didn’t want to get bitten again if the fox got scared of a smell or something.

The answer was a lick on the mouth.

“Fine, but no biting today!” Hiromasa said strictly and lifted the agile body in his arms. He’d only made a few steps when the fox unexpectedly jumped down and trotted along in the dry grass.

“Was there some magic to keep him inside?” Hiromasa wondered. He also wondered, although not as frequently as at first, who was the person to put such a spell on his friend. It must’ve been a really powerful man — or creature — to seal such a mighty onmyouji as Seimei.

A mighty onmyouji.

Seimei.

Hiromasa looked at the curious fox, sniffing at grasses as it trotted along the path, its’ tail trailing behind. Was it really Seimei? Come to think of it, the fox acted nothing like Seimei anymore.

Hiromasa froze in mid-stride, shocked by a thought. What if Seimei’s human part had somehow dissolved? What if the magic was stronger than he had expected?

The fox turned its’ head and called, reminding Hiromasa to follow. Its’ sharp voice rang in Hiromasa’s ears. He hastened to catch up.

“Seimei,” he said. “Seimei, can you still understand me?”

The fox flapped its’ ear and sniffed at a grass stem.

“Seimei, please,” Hiromasa crouched down and gently laid a hand on the fox’s chest to stop it. “Please, if you can understand me, nod.”

The fox sat down and tilted its head. When nothing else happened, it yapped and resumed walking. Hiromasa couldn’t find the strength to get up. He felt suddenly cold on this bright autumn day. If there was no Seimei inside this fox... where was he? Could he be brought back? And, the most frightening question, what would Hiromasa’s world become without Seimei in it?

So far he had assumed that this was a temporary inconvenience. Just three months. As if he had gone on a long trip. But now... What if there was a miscalculation? Or something went wrong? What if Seimei was lost forever!?

The fox called again from afar, and Hiromasa got to his feet shakily. The last thing he needed right now was to lose the fox. Perhaps it was still possible to retrieve the human soul from it with the help of a competent onmyouji... Hiromasa tried his best to remember a single name Seimei had ever mentioned in any kind of positive context. Definitely no one from the capital. He did speak without contempt about a couple provincial practitioners, but Hiromasa failed to recall the names. Perhaps, he could look through Seimei’s letters to find out... Although Hiromasa highly doubted his ability to determine an onmyouji’s competence from reading their letters to Seimei. Not to mention Seimei probably kept his correspondence protected with a spell.

Hiromasa considered calling on a famous monk. Those were rarely frauds. But it was way too dangerous because a monk would see a fox as an evil spirit and might exorcise it together with Seimei’s human soul.

The river finally came into view, and the fox ran up to it, swinging its’ tail happily. It drank a little water and then saw something underneath. In a moment there was a splash, and a small fish was thrown out onto the bank. The fox didn’t need a special invitation.

Foxes. Hiromasa was reminded that Seimei had relatives among the foxes. Perhaps, there were some powerful ones who could help Seimei’s case. But would they? Hiromasa had no idea how foxes treated their half-bloods in general and Seimei in particular.

He sat in the dry grass and watched his fox splash about in the shallow water, feeling cold dread grip his heart.

“Seimei,” he whispered, as a single tear escaped his eye. “Seimei, what am I to do?”

* * *

By the time he led his drowsy companion home, he didn’t have any better idea as to what to do. The only thing he knew was that he couldn’t leave his friend in trouble. So when Seimei curled up on himself and fell asleep, tired with the day’s adventures, Hiromasa walked quietly to the front gate and dismissed his ox cart.

“Lord Seimei is very ill today, I shall stay the night,” he said, and from the worried look on the driver’s face he knew that he was convincing.

“You’re so pale, My Lord,” the driver observed. “You aren’t gonna catch the disease, are you?”

“It’s not contagious,” Hiromasa said. “Please, go home for tonight. Tell the cook to make the usual pack for tomorrow and have it delivered here by breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver bowed and picked up the reins.

Hiromasa returned to the house, lit a brazier for warmth and sat by Seimei’s side, contemplating his sad fate.

The fox must have sensed his unease as it turned an ear and opened an eye. Hiromasa picked up the comb and showed it to the fox. The fox put its’ head on Hiromasa’s knee and sighed as Hiromasa began the combing.

“Do you remember how we met?” he said for no reason. “That day I fell asleep during Doson’s report, as usual. I would’ve paid him more attention if I had known what he was after. Do you remember how he interpreted the two stars uniting? I think he said something about the prince... I’m not sure...” Hiromasa fell silent for a moment, straining his memory. “Right!” he exclaimed, startling the fox in his lap. “Oh, sorry. I remembered. He said, the defender of the city was to appear, and then Minister Morosuke said it was probably the prince...”

The fox snorted.

“Indeed,” Hiromasa scratched it under its’ chin. “They had no idea. But neither did you, right? It was Lady Aone who told you.” Hiromasa sighed. “I wish she were still about. I could’ve asked her what to do with you. Between her and me, you were left with the least useful companion.”

The fox grunted, shifting into a more comfortable position.

“Do you even remember Lady Aone?” Hiromasa asked. Seimei was determined to sleep, but Hiromasa shook him awake. “Do you, Seimei? Lady Aone, do you remember her?”

It seemed to him that something flickered in the beast’s eyes, but in the dim light of the brazier one could only hope.

“Do you remember how I hated you at first, when I thought you’d killed Mitsumushi?” Hiromasa pressed on. It seemed to him that the fox frowned. Of course, it could be unhappy because Hiromasa wouldn’t let it sleep, but... “You were wearing your black court robes,” Hiromasa continued. “But you weren’t present during Doson’s report...”

***

Days went by. Every morning a messenger would appear by Seimei’s gate bringing food and a change of clothes. No one dared come inside, so Hiromasa went out and picked everything up himself. The trickiest part was dressing on his own, but he managed. He asked to be relieved of court duties for a while until his friend got better, seeing that no one else would dare approach the capital’s mightiest onmyouji for fear of catching the disease or the curse or whatever it was.

After breakfast Hiromasa would play with the fox and sometimes go fishing if the weather was good. In the tenth month, it got dark early, so after the day sank into twilight, Hiromasa and the fox would have their dinner, and then the fox would sleep and Hiromasa would recite the events they had experienced together with Seimei in smallest detail. He did his best to recall what each person was wearing, what the name of every single participant was, what plants grew in the gardens of the victims... The fox rarely listened, lulled into sleep by Hiromasa’s narrative, but he thought, maybe it was for the best. Maybe while the fox slept, the human could be reached. Eventually Hiromasa curled up on the bedroll, snuggling up to the fox and covering them both with quilts, and thus they slept.

“...And you took down your hair and posed as the girl to deceive the demon,” Hiromasa muttered. “I was hiding under a basket which stank of fish, and I could see you on the bedroll... You were so beautiful...” Hiromasa paused, sinking into the memory. “So beautiful...” He sighed. “I wonder, Seimei. That first time you licked me, when you were still conscious. Did it really mean nothing?”

The fox perked up its’ ears and gave him a puzzled look.

“I thought so,” Hiromasa sighed again. “You know, what I miss about you the most? I mean, of course, I miss talking to you, and your wisdom, and power, and courage... Everything I don’t have. But the thing I miss about you most is your voice, I think. The way you say my name... You told me a person is bound by their name. But when you say my name I feel like I am released from bounds. Like I am free. I wonder if there is a way for me to say your name in such a way as to free you from this spell. But I’m no good with words...”

That reminded him of something. His flute, long forgotten, had been tucked into his cloak hanging on the clothes rack. He stood up, carefully dislodging the fox’s head and picked up the flute. Immediately he realized how much he missed playing it. Cautious not to spook the fox, he began a quiet tune of the wind. The fox squirmed and shook its ears. Hiromasa played on, watching it carefully. The fox clearly disliked the music. It yelped and grunted at Hiromasa. He stopped.

“You used to enjoy it,” he said in a hurt voice.

The fox sneezed.

“Oh great,” Hiromasa sighed. “Fine, go back to sleep, I haven’t finished recalling that case.”

But the next day as the fox set out on a birdhunt, Hiromasa stationed himself firmly in the middle of the garden and played despite the growling and shrieks of the fox. Seimei had to hear him, he told himself. Surely, Seimei would come back to listen to his flute. That had to be the thing Seimei enjoyed about him.

Hiromasa let his mind stray as he played. Seimei rarely showed any signs of affection. He stuck to a light humorous manner with everyone around, from a street beggar to a court noble, no matter that he pitied the former and despised the latter. For some time Hiromasa could only tell that he was special because Seimei would share with him what he really thought of some people. But Hiromasa wasn’t sure that behind his back Seimei wasn’t telling someone else how ridiculous and pathetic that Minamoto youngster was. Of course, Hiromasa never believed Seimei would badmouth him like that. Just... wasn’t entirely sure.

And then there was Doson’s riot. Hiromasa had been shocked. Despite the pain and the fear of death, the only thing he could think of, as he was dying in Seimei’s arms, was the pained expression on his friend’s face. He still found it hard to believe that Seimei — _Seimei_ — would be so bothered by the death of another human being.

His thoughts jumped to a more recent event, his finding out about Seimei’s nature. Seimei could be bothered. He knew it now. Bothered deeply. So deeply, that he would fight tooth and claw to keep everyone at a safe distance. He was afraid of getting hurt, emotionally. Perhaps it was a weakness. Or perhaps he had been hurt too often in the past. Either way, this little glimpse of genuineness Hiromasa was able to snatch endeared Seimei to him. He now knew how thick the defensive layer between Seimei and the world was. He also knew that when he was dying, Seimei failed to keep up that layer. Just how much feeling, Hiromasa wondered, must there have been for Seimei to drop the indifferent act completely? Hiromasa knew a number of people who would’ve cried over his death. His mother and sisters and cousins, of course. Some friends. Perhaps a few of the servants. A secret admirer, if he had one. But those were people who never hid their feelings at all. Most of them would be able to pretend nothing’d happened, especially if they were as skilled at pretending as Seimei was. To think that Seimei probably cared for him as much as his mother did... A new wave of warmth spread through Hiromasa’s body, and he tasted sweetness on his tongue. He could desire nothing more, he realized. Even if it all ended today, the fact that Seimei felt that way about him was enough to bring peace to his spirit.

His tune faltered as the next realization dawned.

“I am in love with Seimei,” he gasped, and then gasped again, covering his mouth with his hand and staring at the fox, horrified that it’d understood. The fox was chasing Mitsumushi (who, luckily, knew better than to get too close to the ground) and ignoring both Hiromasa and his exclamation.

But it all fit. Of course he had no interest in lady Keiko or any other of the court’s ladies, if he was in love. Now that he thought of it, he realised that his love must have been growing stronger ever since the day he died, and after finding out Seimei’s true nature it matured completely.

He fingered the flute in his hands, trying to remember what it was for. Seimei liked to listen to his flute. Seimei cared for him enough to cry in public. Seimei once said that love in itself was a spell that could bind stronger than most. Hiromasa put the flute to his lips with a new determination.

As he blew out the first sounds, the fox froze and stared at him, unblinking. Hiromasa closed his eyes and imagined there was Seimei in his human form standing in front of him, clad in white, his hair loose on the wind. He recalled the look in Seimei’s eyes — from the time when he was going to the realm of gods, and Hiromasa offered to follow and pledged his loyalty to his beloved. That look of realization, and hope, and disbelief. Hiromasa felt his chest tighten with feeling and blew it out in a tune, half ancient, half improvised. By the time he was short of breath, a new surge of tenderness went through him, and he blew that out too, keeping his mental gaze steady on Seimei’s imaginary eyes.

He played deep into the night, until his fingers refused to move from the cold. He opened his eyes and felt that his cheeks were wet and frozen. The fox was lying in front of him in the grass. He dropped to his knees and scooped it up clumsily, but it didn’t wake. It was breathing, that much he could tell. He carried it to the house and struggled with the braziers to make fire. Some of his fingers couldn’t bend, and others — unbend, but somehow he managed. Then he cuddled up to the fox and covered both of them with every cloth that was around, and sank into a deep sleep.

* * *

He woke up at dawn, judging from the grey light leaking through the screens. He was warm, and he felt somehow happier than yesterday. Perhaps, spilling his feelings into music had had that effect.

He stretched carefully so as not to disturb the fox... but there wasn’t a fox. There was Seimei, curled up on himself under a heap of quilts and sound asleep.

“Seimei!” Hiromasa gasped grabbing his friend’s shoulder. “You’re back!”

The onmyouji literally jumped up, wild eyes focusing on Hiromasa. His hair was a tangled mess, besides... he was naked.

“Oh dear,” Hiromasa mumbled and quickly pulled a robe over Seimei’s shoulders. The man looked at it as if he had no idea what it was. He made no move to keep the edges of the robe from opening.

“Are you all right?” Hiromasa asked, beginning to get worried all over again.

Seimei shook his head violently as if trying to wake himself up, then closed his eyes for a long moment, and then blinked several times, adjusting to something.

“Hiromasa,” he finally said in a hoarse, but such a dear voice.

“Yes,” Hiromasa whispered, his throat suddenly tightening.

Seimei took in the bed, his own naked body and the robe, which he tried to pull around himself, but his hands wouldn’t obey. Hiromasa helped him at once and felt Seimei stiffen under his touch, his eyes still wide open and alert.

“What happened here?” he asked finally, failing to figure it out.

“Well,” said Hiromasa. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Seimei thought for a moment.

“I let you drag me out from under the bush,” he said.

“Oh,” said Hiromasa. “That was about a month ago. Or more.”

“What happened _here_?” Seimei repeated, clearly loosing his nerve.

“Erm... nothing?” Hiromasa frowned. Nothing’s happened in this particular place, has it? “You changed overnight...”

“Hiromasa,” Seimei said in a dangerous voice. “We are sharing a bed, and I am naked, and you are telling me nothing has happened? I am not your mother!”

“Oh heavens, Seimei, no!” cried Hiromasa, realising what it must look like. “Nothing inappropriate! We just slept — I mean, slept as in lie down and have dreams, nothing more, I swear! I wouldn’t take advantage— You were still a fox!”

Seimei snorted but calmed down a bit.

“Fine. I don’t believe you’d have sex with a fox of all things.”

“ _Seimei!_ ” Hiromasa blushed from his collarbone to the very roots of his hair.

The onmyouji finally managed to adjust the robe and stood up. He nearly toppled over at the first attempt to walk, so Hiromasa had to catch him. But as soon as he steadied himself, he pushed away.

“You’ve forgotten how to move in the human body?” Hiromasa blurted out before snapping his mouth shut. He’d forgotten how to talk to Seimei. He was instantly reminded of it with a look of hurt and rejection. “I am just trying to help,” Hiromasa managed feebly. Seimei headed for the veranda, and Hiromasa called after him, “It’s cold outside,” but was ignored. He followed dutifully, determined to make sure his friend comes to no harm anymore, even if he cursed him for meddling.

Seimei leaned heavily on the banister and looked out into the garden. His face was a blank mask, carefully schooled, but the eyes were still wild, looking out from another world. His gaze fell on the rattle lying by the banister. He crouched down and picked it up. Hiromasa felt a heavy weight settle on his heart.

“Is there a child in the house?” Seimei asked in a flat voice.

“No,” said Hiromasa, hoping that that would suffice.

It didn’t.

“Then who is this for?”

“It- I- I mean...” Hiromasa stammered, realizing that he’d never be able to tell Seimei it was a toy for _him_. And a much liked one at that.

But Seimei, who had turned to face him, apparently read his thoughts or at least guessed. He went very pale, even paler than he was to begin with, then looked down.

Hiromasa wished desperately that for this one time in his whole life he would find the right words to say. But it seemed there were no right words in the world. And his flute wouldn’t help him this time.

“Hiromasa, I must ask you to leave,” Seimei said in a quiet emotionless voice.

There it was. A dismissal. After everything- ah, but who cares!

Hiromasa felt fresh tears sliding down his cheeks on top of yesterday’s unwiped ones.

“Are you sure?” he said, even though he knew it was pointless. “You are still weak... Can you even make a shikigami?”

“ _Please_ , Hiromasa.”

This time there was feeling in the words. Of course. Seimei was embarrassed beyond sanity. Hiromasa had to give him some space and time, even at the expense of health and comfort. Seimei was a loner. He was used to dealing with problems on his own.

“Of course,” Hiromasa bowed his head. “There is some food in the kitchen, should be enough for a couple of days.”

With that he straightened his robes and his topknot, fastened the cap in place and headed for the gate. He didn’t bother picking up his spare clothes. Even if he never returns here, Seimei would send it with a shikigami. The messenger with food was probably already on the way, so Hiromasa would take his horse and return home decently. It wouldn’t look like he was kicked out of a lover’s bed. He had no right to feel like that.

* * *

Hiromasa was restless. He cursed himself again and again for leaving Seimei. He should’ve stayed even if Seimei didn’t want him to. Just the memory of Seimei stumbling out of bed filled him with worry. Worse than that, Seimei could turn back into a fox. After all, it had only been a little over two months after the transformation, not three.

The night after Hiromasa returned home he couldn’t sleep for a single minute, painfully aware of the time slowly crawling by. Now he was pacing his rooms, scaring his servants with his pallor. He had to go back and check on Seimei. But he had to stay away. Seimei had asked him to stay away. He rarely asked anything.

Eventually Hiromasa found a way. He would send Seimei a letter. If he was still human, he would answer. Surely he would. And if he didn’t — well, then Hiromasa had an excuse to go and check on him.

So he sat down at his desk, hands trembling, and picked out a plain white paper, blank of all emotion. For several torturous minutes he couldn’t decide whether to write a poem or not. Finally, he decided against it: Seimei didn’t like poetry, Hiromasa was a poor poet, and most importantly, he wanted to keep his letter as neutral as possible. So eventually he wrote down simply, “Are you well?” — and quickly rolled up the letter until his determination gave way. He called for the messenger boy and told him to carry the letter to Seimei’s, throw it over the gate and wait for a reply. In case the reply didn’t come in three hours, the boy was to return.

But the reply came soon enough. Hiromasa unrolled the paper with trembling hands. The paper stated simply. “I am.” Hiromasa released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least Seimei was human still. His handwriting was a bit edgy, though. Perhaps, he was still having trouble using his hands. But it was Seimei’s handwriting all right.

Hiromasa was so relieved with the letter that he slept through the rest of the day. Next morning, though, he repeated the procedure.

“How are you today?”

“Better.”

And the next day.

“Have your powers returned?”

“They have.”

And the next.

It seemed to Hiromasa that Seimei realized the purpose of these letters and probably guessed the soothing effect his replies had on Hiromasa. In a few days Hiromasa looked at himself in the mirror and thought that it was time to resume his court duties — he wouldn’t scare the ladies with dark circles under his eyes, and he also had some good news about Seimei. The onmyouji was definitely on his way to recovery. As for one young nobleman’s shattered heart, well, who cared.

So resume his duties he did, and with vigour. He sat and listened to reports on agriculture without missing a single word. He paid attention to intrigues and exchanged looks. He did anything to keep himself from thinking of Seimei. Except once a day when he sent his short message and received an even shorter reply. He didn’t want to forget Seimei, of course, and he was confident he’d never be able to, even if he did want. But he hoped that one day Seimei would come out of his seclusion and talk to him, and tell him where he, Hiromasa, stood with him. Until then, Hiromasa had to invent ways to plug the gaping hole in his heart.

* * *

That day came in the beginning of winter. Having sent his usual note inquiring after Seimei’s health these cold days, Hiromasa received a reply, “Come and see.” He practically ran out of the house, only remembering to take a horse the last minute. The ox-cart was way too slow for his current heartbeat. He galloped over the bridge and it was only due to the horse’s excellent training that he didn’t crash into the fence of Seimei’s estate. The gates admitted him, and his horse was tied to a post by a quiet shikigami.

Seimei was standing on the porch, his brilliant white hunting costume over a deep-blue robe, his overall appearance nothing out of the ordinary.

“That was quick,” he said for a greeting.

“I missed you,” Hiromasa blurted out and blushed.

Seimei gave a tiny hint of a smile and gestured towards the doors.

“Come in. It’s cold outside.”

Hiromasa stepped tentatively into the warmth of the house. It felt strange to be shown the way by the host after he’d lived here all by himself for half a month. A beautiful girl in a phalaenopsis-patterned robe served them grilled fish and warmed wine.

“Where is Mitsumushi?” Hiromasa asked for something to say.

“She usually sleeps through most of the winter. I could wake her up if you’d like to talk to her...”

“Oh, no, thanks,” Hiromasa picked up his cup filled by the girl’s hand. “Just wondering.”

Seimei drank silently.

“So... how are you feeling?” Hiromasa inquired nervously. It’s been a long time since he had been relaxed, and the constant strain was beginning to get to him.

“Seriously, Hiromasa,” Seimei chided. “You asked me that question every single day for the past month. What news are you expecting to hear?”

Hiromasa looked down, not knowing what to say to that. He was so delighted to see Seimei again, but he knew nothing had changed between them since the day he’d left.

“I told them at court that you were ill, but never specified with what. Only said it wasn’t contagious. So you’re free to make up something convincing.”

Seimei seemed amused for a moment.

“Do they miss me at court?”

“Well,” Hiromasa sighed. “They really miss your powers.”

“Oh, that is understandable,” Seimei drawled. “Unlike someone’s odd passion for my voice.”

Hiromasa froze. There was no way. He couldn’t know. He was a fox then. And asleep. No way in the world he could’ve heard that!

Hiromasa chanced a look at his friend, but quickly cast his eyes down again. Seimei’s expression was adamant: he knew. There was no denying anything. Hiromasa forced himself to relax. It didn’t matter what he did or said now if Seimei knew. He recalled how Seimei himself denied having shed tears. It was useless. For such an intensely private person as Seimei it was a way to preserve even a tiny bit of dignity. But Hiromasa wasn’t all that private, even if he was easily embarrassed. Furthermore, he felt bad about denying his feelings for Seimei. The man must have known little affection judging from his reactions. It would be insensitive of Hiromasa to deny him further.

He took a deep breath and looked up.

“Yes,” he said. “I like your voice. I actually like a lot of things about you. And I missed you,” he added with a stress.

It was Seimei’s turn to avert his gaze. “I was a mess, Hiromasa,” he said in a strained tone. “I had to collect my wits before facing anyone.”

“I understand,” Hiromasa assured. He did, for the whole time. He understood that Seimei couldn’t bear the idea of appearing less than powerful and ironic before him, because he was no better than _anyone_.

Seimei obviously saw where his words had directed Hiromasa’s thoughts. He closed his eyes briefly, then sighed.

“No, it’s not that. You were simply the last person I wanted to see me like that.”

Hiromasa wasn’t very good at controlling his expression, but this time he managed to raise his eyebrows in an expression of polite curiosity.

“What were you afraid of that I’d do?”

“I wasn’t—” Seimei began quickly, but stopped himself. “Any number of things. Pity me. Lose faith in my powers. Stop... liking me.”

Hiromasa reached out to touch Seimei’s hand, which was fingering his empty cup.

“That could never happen,” he whispered.

Seimei squeezed his fingers lightly.

“You must understand, Hiromasa,” he said, “that I didn’t remember anything back then. I had no idea what I was like as a fox. Nor how you reacted.”

“Do you now?”

“I do,” Seimei nodded, and Hiromasa was reminded of their brief-phrased correspondence. So, probably, was Seimei, and he continued, “At least I remember everything that happened and what you said.” He gave Hiromasa a questioning look.

Hiromasa felt awkward, leaning forward over the wine and the fish, so he stood up and moved to Seimei’s side without letting go of his hand.

“I meant everything I said,” he confirmed. “I love you.”

Seimei regarded him through half-closed eyes. Then he leaned in and licked Hiromasa on the cheek.

Hiromasa laughed with surprise and pulled Seimei tight into his arms. Seimei gripped the fabrics on Hiromasa’s back so strongly, they could tear, and nuzzled and kissed Hiromasa’s neck.

“That tickles,” Hiromasa whispered even though it actually didn’t. But he wasn’t sure he knew the right word to name the sensation Seimei’s lips sent through him.

Seimei pulled back a bit and pressed his lips to Hiromasa’s, breathing into his mouth. His breath smelt of wine, and Hiromasa suspected the bottle that was opened when he arrived wasn’t the first one Seimei tasted today.

“Does that tickle too?” Seimei exhaled pushing onto Hiromasa with all of his weight.

“Yes,” Hiromasa squeaked, his head spinning from the sudden arousal. He allowed Seimei to push him flat onto the floor and wondered why the man didn’t sink right through him, for he was quickly dissolving into a hot liquid.

Seimei kissed the corner of his mouth and nuzzled his cheek, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hiromasa,” he whispered. “If you want to stop me, do it now.”

“Why would I want that?” Hiromasa gasped, feeling Seimei’s hardness press into his abdomen even through all the layers of silk.

Instead of an answer, Seimei unfastened Hiromasa’s cap and pulled down his hair, burying his face in it and inhaling the perfume. In his haste, Hiromasa hadn’t applied anything special, but then he’d never expected this meeting to become a date. Seimei’s own hair smelled of desire and possession as Hiromasa undid all the ties and ran his fingers through the shiny mass.

Seimei’s breathing was hoarse as he helped Hiromasa out of his robes. For several agonizing minutes all they both could do was to shed skins in order to reach each other, until only one layer was left. The notion of decency wouldn’t allow Hiromasa to strip his lover any further, and Seimei didn’t seem to care, busy pulling his feet free of hakama.

“I thought I liked your hunting costume,” Hiromasa chuckled, but the chuckle turned into a gasp as Seimei straddled him, opening their underrobes just wide enough for their groins to rub together. Hiromasa thrust up a couple times out of reflex and felt ready to go that very instant, but still wasn’t sure what exactly Seimei wanted him to do. He had never had a relationship with another man and wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of letting anyone inside him, although he would’ve admitted Seimei without a hint of hesitation if asked explicitly.

His lover must have sensed his confusion and leaned forward, a curtain of shiny hair separating his pale face from the rest of the world.

“Take me, please,” Seimei breathed, and his words brushed Hiromasa’s lips with the power of a spell; he moaned and arched upwards, feeling that his consciousness was leaking away fast at the very idea of Seimei seeking masculinity in him. He heard a chuckle, then a tap, then a scent of perfume spread through the air. He gripped Seimei’s thighs and caressed them in anticipation, and then a slick hand curled around his length. He didn’t dare look at what Seimei was doing: he was sure he wouldn’t hold any longer if he saw. But then he felt Seimei’s weight lift from his lap, and he couldn’t keep himself from lifting his head to watch wide-eyed as Seimei’s pale and elegant body sank on top of him, arching wildly, head thrown back with a gasp of pleasure and probably pain. Hiromasa thrust despite himself; he’d meant to let Seimei lead the rhythm. Seimei moaned and bent backwards, facing the ceiling. His underrobe slid off his shoulders, restraining his arms, which he used to support himself on the floor. Then he started moving in ragged jolts, gasping and mewling quietly, too hard and too fast for a first time, Hiromasa realized. His desire subsided somewhat, giving way to worry, and he pushed himself upright to get a hold of his lover.

“Seimei, you are hurting yourself,” he whispered. The man clung to him and kissed his shoulder.

“I promised myself I would not touch you,” he said in a husky voice.

“Why would you punish me like that?” Hiromasa asked, carefully shifting their linked bodies to lay Seimei on the tatami. “Here, carefully now.”

Seimei sniffed, and Hiromasa began to move cautiously, like he would with the most fragile lady. Seimei was gasping quietly, eyes clouded with desire and pleasure. Hiromasa was nearly suffocating with the overwhelming need for more, but his lover’s comfort was incomparably more important. Shifting his weight to one arm, he began caressing the tender skin of Seimei’s chest, then stomach and felt sharp nails sink deep into his arms. He reached lower to get the tangled mess of moist silk out of the way and slid his hand around Seimei’s length. The man bucked up and groaned, baring his teeth, and Hiromasa saw protruding vulpine fangs sinking into Seimei’s lower lip. He gasped and leaned forward, changing the angle of his thrusts, and it was then that Seimei’s gleaming amber eyes flashed open.

“Is it really _me_ you want, Hiromasa?” he asked in a trembling voice between gasps.

Hiromasa’s mind went numb at the sight of a blood drop smearing Seimei’s pale lips.

“I love you,” he gasped and came, and so did Seimei under him, with a loud scream through clenched teeth.

They lay there for a long time just breathing. Seimei’s fangs retreated, and his eyes gradually turned their normal dark brown colour. He raised a hand to wipe the blood off his lips, but Hiromasa stopped him.

“May I?”

He took blinking for a nod and bent over his lover’s face to lick and kiss at the injured skin.

“Now you’ve drunk my blood,” Seimei murmured absent-mindedly.

“Is it a bad thing?” Hiromasa frowned.

“Nope. It just means you won’t catch a cold this winter,” Seimei chuckled.

“Oh... I meant, for you.”

“You think too much about me, Hiromasa,” Seimei shifted and found that his elbows were still linked by the twisted underrobe. Irritated, he pulled free. Hiromasa snickered at his struggling and pushed the offending garb away. Seimei caught his arm and frowned. There were fresh clawmarks, and Hiromasa only now began to feel the light stinging. Seimei brought his lips to Hiromasa’s skin and, with a whispered word, healed all the claw marks at once.

“The other one,” he commanded and Hiromasa shifted to pull his left arm from under him.

“Convenient,” he remarked, watching Seimei do away with all the scratches together with the old marks of the fox bite.

“It can be avoided if my hands are tied,” Seimei said dryly.

Hiromasa sat up.

“What!? Are you mad? I’d never do such a thing to you!”

Seimei looked away and pulled his blue robe around himself.

“It is easy for you to promise things you can control,” he said. “I wish I’d never hurt you. But if you are determined to make love to me, that will keep happening.”

“I haven’t even felt it until you noticed,” Hiromasa muttered, wrapping his own underrobe tighter. “I’m not very sensitive to pain.” He watched Seimei struggle with the tangled ends of his hair, obviously with the purpose of tying it up. He realized he couldn’t bear another round of nervous silence between them. He caught Seimei’s hands and pushed him to the floor once again, pinning him down with his weight.

“How much more is there?” he demanded of the startled onmyouji. “How much more are you hiding for fear of scaring me away? Tell me now, Seimei. I am tired of walking head-on into your secrets. I love you, and that includes your voice, and your hair, and your tail, and your claws. All of you. I may be young, but I’m adult enough to put up with some love bites. What is it you like about me if you think that I am a wimp and a coward?”

“I don’t think that,” Seimei said quickly, vainly trying to avoid looking Hiromasa in the eyes. “And what I like about you are the same things I am afraid I might rob you of: your innocence and your cheerfulness.”

“If you continue pushing me away, that would kill the cheerfulness indeed.”

Seimei closed his eyes in defeat. He looked so beautiful, his face pale and solemn, his hair in disarray over a heap of cast-off white robes, Hiromasa momentarily imagined his lover in a sleep troubled with desire, thrashing around on the sheets.

“Is there anything else?” he asked quietly, feeling a new arousal build up and suddenly very much aware of only two layers of silk between him and Seimei’s hot body.

“No, Hiromasa. You’ve dug to the bottom, there is nothing else to hide. Perhaps... but I’m sure you already know that your love draws out the human in me.”

Hiromasa smiled and pressed a kiss to Seimei’s cheek.

“Then why don’t we try again, from the beginning?”

Seimei’s breathing hitched and he looked Hiromasa deep in the eyes.

“You have no idea how much I desire you,” he said hoarsely.

“Let’s just take our time. Tell me what to do to make it easier for you,” Hiromasa rolled off to the side, allowing his lover some space.

Seimei’s eyes clouded as he parted the deep blue robe and, moving his slender legs apart, found his own opening with his fingers. Hiromasa blushed a brilliant red even after all their intimacy, at the sight of Seimei oiling himself. His eyes closed and cheeks flushed, Seimei started pushing one finger after another inside. Hiromasa tried to gulp, but found his mouth totally parched.

“Let me,” he rasped, moving closer.

Seimei looked at him through his thick eyelashes and took his hand to guide it in place. Then he pushed two fingers, one of his own and one Hiromasa’s, into his opening. Hiromasa forgot how to breathe as he explored Seimei’s sleek tenderness. It seemed to him his fingers were too rough for the task. Seimei began making soft sounds in his throat and pushing his hips to meet the joined fingers, which he was now flexing and pushing apart. He was already very hard.

“Hiromasa,” he whispered, and the young man immediately realised that Seimei had forgotten he was there. This was how Seimei had satisfied his desire before Hiromasa built up the courage to interfere. He leaned in and kissed Seimei’s abdomen, reminding the man of his presence. Seimei started and gasped, eyes fluttering open and blush blooming on his cheekbones.

“Hiromasa,” he said in a different, urgent rather than wistful voice, “I need you inside me.”

“Are you ready?” Hiromasa asked for confirmation. He didn’t want a repetition of the earlier.

Seimei nodded. Hiromasa moved to position himself in front of his lover and placed Seimei’s legs over his shoulders, lifting the lower part of his lover’s body. Seimei’s skin was flushed and fevered. Hiromasa gave an affectionate squeeze to his buttocks and elicited the sweetest moan. He oiled himself thoroughly and pulled away Seimei’s hand. Then he pushed in.

This time it was very different. Seimei’s heat swallowed him whole and made his head swim. He heard the sensual noises his lover was making, felt him buck under him, but was no longer sure where he ended and Seimei began, so synchronized their movements and cries were. At some point he noticed that Seimei threw back his arms as if trying to reach something to hold onto, so Hiromasa grabbed his hands and pinned them down, entwining his fingers with Seimei’s. He thrust with his whole power and didn’t hold back. He caught a glimpse of fangs severing Seimei’s lower lip, which he had neglected to heal. Blood trickled to the side of Seimei’s full red lips. Hiromasa trembled all over and dove down, pressing the place where his neck met his shoulder to Seimei’s mouth.

“Bite me.”

And Seimei did.

They both came from the sensation, shuddering and gasping, sweaty and hot on a winter’s day. Hiromasa collapsed on top of his lover, breathing in his scent, savage and elegant at the same time. Courtesy demanded that he should roll off, because he was the taller and heavier of the two, but he knew Seimei could lift him with a word, and it was so warm, to be pressed to his lover skin-to-skin.

Seimei drew out a long breath, and Hiromasa felt being lowered together with Seimei’s chest.

“You were right to suggest a second time,” the onmyouji said, smiling. When he received no answer, he nudged Hiromasa’s leg with his knee. “Are you asleep, eh?”

“Ah? No!” Hiromasa jerked up his head and stared. “What did you say?”

Seimei laughed. Hiromasa rolled over and sat up, separating his hands from Seimei’s as they were still firmly clasped together. There were claw marks on the back of his palms, where Seimei’s fingers had dug in. The onmyouji frowned slightly, brought Hiromasa’s hands to his lips and whispered a little. The scratches closed without a trace, just like before.

“Take care of your lip,” Hiromasa advised. “My heart aches to look at it, too erotic and too violent.”

Seimei smiled and sucked the poor lip into his mouth for a few seconds. It emerged unscathed.

“One might think we were fighting, not making love,” Seimei remarked.

“One has no business looking,” retorted Hiromasa with a smirk. He yawned and stretched. “Now is a good time for lunch, don’t you think?”

“Let me take care of the bite, and you may eat everything there is in the house.”

Hiromasa tugged the robe off his shoulder and felt the spot.

“It’s all right, doesn’t even hurt, let it be.”

“Why not treat it?” Seimei lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you are not going to write me a morning-after letter, and I’d like something to stay... You know... In case I wake up tomorrow and it all seems a dream.”

Seimei smiled uneasily.

“A servant might see.”

“I’ll say I was bitten by a demon,” Hiromasa grinned.

“That won’t even be a lie,” Seimei said, getting up and starting to sift through the discarded robes.

“Hey, you aren’t insulted, are you?” Hiromasa frowned.

Seimei turned his head without lifting it, so that he looked at Hiromasa through the disordered hair.

“No. I realize I wasn’t at my best lately, but I am not that easily insulted, you know.”

“Good,” Hiromasa breathed out. “Could you help me dress, please? It takes me an hour alone.”

“I remember,” Seimei smirked and picked up Hiromasa’s robes. “Come here.”

* * *

The shikigami had to rewarm the wine and the food, of course, but Hiromasa was so happy and hungry, he didn’t care for minute nuances of taste. Seimei, too, cleared his plate rather quickly and was now sipping the hot wine, gazing at the first snowfall of the year through an unscreened window. It was too hot in the room, and neither of them was in danger of catching a cold, really.

“I feel like we’ve just returned from solving a case of a mysterious death,” Hiromasa said between mouthfuls.

“A bit similar, yes,” Seimei nodded with a dreamy smile. “But at such moments you usually barrage me with questions to clarify all the details. Have you none?”

Hiromasa thought about it.

“Hm!” he said, shocked that he never asked this one before, but remembering to swallow before talking. “Who was it that cursed you?”

“Why, haven’t you figured out?” Seimei looked really surprised. “Honestly, Hiromasa. You invented a way to bring me back and make me human again a month short of the curse’s term, but you still don’t know who cast it?”

“All right, I feel stupid enough, now you can tell me,” Hiromasa grinned.

Seimei laughed.

“Why, that relative of mine, of course. I should’ve expected something like that, but, spending most of my time with you, I forget what a nasty place this world is.”

Hiromasa blushed proudly.

“Did he enchant the fence too? So that you couldn’t leave?”

“No, I did it myself. I had a few seconds after I realised I was cursed before I changed.”

“Whatever for?”

“To keep myself from straying into the woods and forgetting who I am.”

“But you did forget?” Hiromasa prompted quietly.

Seimei nodded, this thoughts far away.

“I gave in to an instinct. That’s the thing with this kind of curse. While you keep your cool, it’s fine. But once simple desires overwhelm, there is no way back.”

“Which desire was it?” Hiromasa frowned, trying to remember.

“To lick your hand,” Seimei smiled.

“Huh? So it was my fault?” Hiromasa put down his cup, eyes wide and miserable.

“No,” Seimei chuckled. “It could’ve been anything. It just happened to be you. That’s why I tried to scare you away the next day, but couldn’t stand to see you so sad. Anyway, it could’ve been a passing female. Or the desire to catch a bird.” He gave Hiromasa a teasing look. “Or a mouse. You should really be proud of yourself, because so far I was convinced there was no way to bring back a soul lost due to such a curse. Yet it seems love indeed is stronger than other spells.”

Hiromasa blushed again and fell silent for a few minutes, sipping his wine. Then another question occurred to him.

“Na, Seimei. If anything happens to you again, who am I to run to?”

Seimei gave him a long sad look.

“No one, Hiromasa. There is no one else for me in this world.”

 


End file.
